


The Captain's Conquest

by Erushi



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Beads, Blindfolds, Inappropriate Use of Jewellery, M/M, Navy, Pirates, YOI Nautical Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 18:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14721716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erushi/pseuds/Erushi
Summary: Victor sighed dramatically. “And here I was, looking forward to the day we meet again.”Yuuri tightened his grip on his sword. “En garde,” he whispered.Or: Navy captain! Yuuri reunites with privateer! Victor on the high seas.(Originally written for the YOI Nautical Zine.)





	The Captain's Conquest

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to Jan for the beta, and the [YOI Nautical Zine](https://yoinauticalzine.tumblr.com/) mods for allowing me to contribute to such a brilliant zine.

**The Captain’s Conquest**

It was their seventeenth night at sea when the news came, and when it did, it was too late to fire up the cannons.

 “Tell the crew to ready themselves,” Yuuri ordered tersely. He pulled on his boots and shrugged on his coat while Phichit conveyed his order to the rest of the men on board the _HMS Eros_. Then, grimacing, Yuuri drew his flintlock and joined the rest of his tense crew on the starboard of their navy vessel. They had been hunting the _Rusalka_ for more than a season, but their quarry, it seemed, had made them her prey.

The pirate ship was closer now, its smaller size ensuring that its approach was swift and silent over the dark waves. Like a ghost, Yuuri thought suddenly; he could see how the _Rusalka_ earned her name. At least Captain Nikiforov did not seem inclined to fire the guns on his ship either.

The metallic _clank_ of a grappling hook rang loud in the night air as it struck the deck of the _HMS Eros_ , scraping harshly across the floorboards before wedging firmly against the ship’s rails. Immediately, his men sprang into action, heaving to cast it off, but no sooner did they manage to dislodge it when two more hooks followed. A cry rang across the waves, _Port to starboard._

They were boarded.

“We seek to parley,” a familiar voice called out. Too familiar. Yuuri’s mouth went dry.

+

On his signal, Yuuri’s men fell back, standing in an uneasy semi-circle behind him as he re-holstered his flintlock.

He felt his body tense as he watched the captain of the _Rusalka_ climb nimbly aboard his ship. Instinctively, he drew his sword. “Nikiforov.”

“Hello, Yuuri.” Victor’s voice was light.

“Don’t call me that,” Yuuri snapped, raising his sword as Victor strode towards him.

“Why?” Victor cocked his head. “You used to call me ‘Victor’.”

“The Victor I knew, died when he ran off to sea and became a pirate.”

Victor clicked his tongue. “So cruel, my Yuuri. I’m not a pirate. Didn’t you hear? I’ve a letter of marque from the Sun King himself.”

“A privateer, then, under the French flag. That’s no better.”

Victor sighed dramatically. “And here I was, looking forward to the day we meet again.”

Yuuri tightened his grip on his sword. “I’m not letting you get away.”

Still smiling, Victor drew his sword. “So be it.”

“ _En garde_ ,” Yuuri whispered, before diving forward with a slash at Victor’s hamstrings. His blow was neatly deflected by Victor’s blade, and the force of Victor’s counter-parry was enough to make him stumble a couple of steps back before he found his balance again.

Still smiling, Victor swept his sword down, in a vicious side-cut that Yuuri barely just ducked. Victor laughed. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, Yuuri, if you want to defeat me.”

Yuuri growled as he rolled onto his feet. “Traitor,” he spat, before leaping from his crouch, angling his blade for Victor’s sword-arm. Victor twisted his body to avoid the blow, but not before the tip of Yuuri’s sword scored the back of his hand. There was a moment’s pause as their gazes locked. Then, Victor’s grin grew sharp, and Yuuri felt the corners of his lips twitch in an answering smile. “Sloppy,” he called, lunging for Victor’s unguarded shoulder.

Instantly, Victor’s sword swept up, the flat of his blade ringing against Yuuri’s. “I’ll make a deal with you,” he said genially, deflecting the thrust with a twist of his wrist before swinging his sword up again in a wide arc to force Yuuri’s sword down.

“His Majesty’s Navy doesn’t deal with traitors,” Yuuri retorted, as he fought to keep his sword aloft.

“If you win,” Victor continued conversationally, “My crew and I will surrender to you.”

Yuuri grunted. He could feel his sword dip beneath the weight of Victor’s blade. Bracing his feet against the rolling deck, he brought his other hand up to grasp the hilt of his sword and, with a sudden burst of strength, knocked Victor’s sword aside. “Then prepare to surrender.”

“I’m not done,” Victor countered, the mild rebuke in his voice clear. “If I win, you will surrender to me.”

“My crew will never surrender to you,” Yuuri glared, diving forward once more, pressing his advantage.

Unexpectedly, Victor laughed, even as he dodged to the side. “Who said anything about your crew? I only want _you_ , Yuuri.”

Yuuri lunged again. This time, his strike hit true. His blade hooked onto the bracket-guard on the hilt of Victor’s sword, ripping the sword from Victor’s grip and sending Victor sprawling back against the fore-mast. “Tell that to His Majesty,” Yuuri glared as he strode forward, sword held at the ready. “I hear that our Merry Monarch doesn’t take well to traitors.”

Victor sat up, his head tipping back against the weatherworn wood of the mast as he caught Yuuri’s gaze once more. “So, do we have a deal?”

Yuuri faltered. Victor sounded too unhurried, too unconcerned. Still – “Deal,” he bit out as he drew his sword-arm back. Victor’s gaze was calm as Yuuri brought the blade of his sword towards Victor’s neck, a symbol of his victory… and, at the very last moment, too quick for Yuuri to react, Victor snapped his leg out, sweeping Yuuri off-balance. Yuuri fell back heavily against the rough floorboards while Victor dived into a roll, springing smoothly onto his feet again. “Sloppy,” he laughed, his tone a fair mimicry of Yuuri’s, only moments before.

“Bastard,” Yuuri snarled as he scrambled back onto his feet and lunged again. This time, however, instead of dodging the blow, Victor stepped right into it. Yuuri blinked. Too late, he noticed that Victor had drawn a dagger. The flat of the dagger met the edge of Yuuri’s sword with surprising strength, and Victor used the force of Yuuri’s movement to turn the blow against him. Victor’s free arm snapped up, punching Yuuri sharply in the gut. Reflexively, Yuuri gasped, doubling over. HIs fingers flexed, and his sword clattered uselessly to the ground.

“You always showed weakness under pressure,” Victor remarked casually as he drew close. A swift, booted kick sent Yuuri falling to his knees.

Yuuri kept his glare defiant as Victor touched the tip of his dagger to Yuuri’s throat, as sharp and as cold as the kiss of a former lover.

“My win,” Victor whispered hotly against the shell of Yuuri’s ear, and Yuuri tried not to shiver.

So it was to be _that_ sort of deal, after all.

+

Yuuri stood sullenly beside Victor, on the portside of the _Rusalka_ ’s deck, as he watched his crew – his _former crew_ , he corrected himself mentally – cast off. He kept his gaze locked firmly on Phichit, standing on the starboard of the navy vessel. He did not need a spyglass to know that his former first mate’s brow was creased with worry. It had been that way ever since Yuuri had asked to speak to him in private, a farewell between friends. The conversation Phichit had insisted that he have with Victor thereafter, just the two of them with Yuuri frustratingly out of earshot, had done nothing to ease the frown.

Yuuri watched as the expanse of waves between the ships widened, until the _HMS Eros_ was a distant silhouette on the horizon. Then, and only then, did Yuuri sigh.

A hand on his elbow, gentler than Yuuri had any right to expect, broke his reverie.

“Shall we, Yuuri?” asked Victor, his tone imperious and cocksure for all that his touch was unexpectedly tentative.

Yuuri raised his chin defiantly. “Lead on, Nikiforov.” He kept his head high as he marched ahead of Victor, ignoring the curious looks which Victor’s crew threw his way.

The walk to Victor’s cabin was mercifully brief. Still, when Victor reached around him to unlock the door, Yuuri faltered.

Victor laughed when he noticed Yuuri’s hesitation. “Go on in. My chamber is for pleasure, not torture. I’ve no intention to clap you in irons.”

Squaring his shoulders, Yuuri stepped into Victor’s room.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Victor ordered, gesturing at the carved wooden table and the motley trio of chairs that occupied the anterior of the room. A curtain, half-raised, shielded the rest of the room from sight, although Yuuri spied the broad expanse of a bed just beyond, its covers an unmade tangle.

Yuuri took the nearest chair warily. He watched silently as Victor crossed the small room to a cabinet which was bolted to the corner, and tried not to think about why Victor would need such a large bed at sea.

“A drink?” Victor called over his shoulder. “You must be thirsty.” He returned to the table with two bottles and a pair of cups. “I’ve some of that sweet Spanish sack which you liked when we were schoolboys together. Unless, of course, you’ve grown to prefer rum.”

Yuuri cleared his throat. “What are you playing at?”

Victor’s brow rose. “Sack it is,” he said mildly, filling a cup and pushing it towards Yuuri, before dashing a glug of rum into his. He raised his cup to his lips, his eyes trained on Yuuri’s face over its rim.

Mutely, Yuuri picked his own drink and followed suit. It _was_ his favourite. Damned Victor and his knowing smirk. Yuuri’s fingers tightened around the cup as he set it down once more. “What is it that you want?”

“This brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Victor remarked conversationally. “You and me, sneaking away from the parties to drink in our rooms.”  

Yuuri gritted his teeth. “I’m surprised you remember.”

Victor looked up sharply. “How could I not?”

Yuuri snorted. “Funny, when you were the one who ran away to sea. And became a pirate. A _traitor_.” He laced the last word with as much venom as he could.

Victor laughed shortly. “A privateer,” he retorted, his tone brittle. “And that’s rich of you, when you were the one who ran away first. You – ”

Abruptly, Yuuri tossed back the rest of his drink. He slammed his cup onto the table, cutting Victor’s excuses neatly into two. “Let’s fuck.”

Victor blinked, clearly caught off-guard.

“You wanted me, didn’t you?” Yuuri pressed. “So, let’s fuck, just like we used to, too.” He stood up and shrugged off his coat before he could lose his nerve. “Come on, Nikiforov. We’ll do it any way you like this time.” His lips twisted wryly as he began to unlace the front of his shirt. “A victor’s spoils.”

There was the scrape of a chair being pushed back roughly against the floorboards. A pair of hands closed around Yuuri’s, stilling him. “You’re certain,” Victor stated. For the first time since they had encountered each other again, Victor sounded unsure.

Yuuri shook Victor’s hands off. Already, he could feel the sack coursing in his blood, the heady wine making him bolder than he would normally have dared. He fisted a hand in the front of Victor’s shirt, yanking him forward into a hard, biting kiss. “Damned sure,” he whispered as he drew back.

His face mere inches away, Victor took a visible, shuddering breath. Then, abruptly, a calm expression settled over his features. “Close your eyes,” Victor ordered, his voice satisfyingly hoarse.

Obediently, Yuuri did as he was told. There were footsteps, rustling, the sounds of a chest being opened and shut. Then, fabric whispered across his eyelids. Instinctively, Yuuri startled.

“Chinese silk,” Victor murmured. “I’ve been saving it for you.” His hands settled on Yuuri’s shoulders, feverishly hot even through the rough linen of Yuuri’s shirt as he guided him through the room. “Come.”

Inhaling deeply, Yuuri forced himself to relax. Deprived of his sight, his other senses sang. He could feel every touch keenly, every sensation magnified, as Victor began to undress him. Yuuri felt his shirt slip off his shoulders, and the skin on his chest and arms prickled into gooseflesh as they met with the cooler air of the cabin. The chill, however, was quickly chased away by the searing heat of Victor’s mouth as he pressed hungry, biting kisses into each inch of skin that was exposed.

A light tap on each knee had Yuuri stepping out of his breeches and boots. A gentle shove had him falling back – onto Victor’s bed, he realised, and _oh_ , he thought, _it smelled like Victor_ – before Victor began sucking a line of kisses down his inner thigh and Yuuri stopped thinking at all.

A hot gust of breath was the only warning Yuuri had before Victor swallowed him.

“Fuck,” he swore, kicking out.

Strong hands caught his legs, and Victor pulled off to nip a kiss on the sensitive skin on the crease of Yuri’s knee. “Shh, my men will hear you.” Victor sounded amused.

Yuuri started to swear at him, but wet heat engulfed him once more, and the words dissolved into choked moans. It seemed to go on forever, a perfect heat as Victor bobbed his mouth along the length of Yuuri’s cock, until, abruptly, Victor pulled off again.

“No – !” Yuuri sat up hastily before he could think the better of it, blindly reaching for where he thought Victor might be. Instantly, a pair of hands grabbed his, gentling him.

“Lie down,” Victor ordered huskily, and Yuuri shuddered as Victor’s voice went straight to his cock. He heard a bottle un-stopper. Then, an oiled finger traced down his crack and slid all the way into him without warning, sinking in far enough to brush against that secret spot which always made Yuuri see stars.

It had been years since they had done this, but Yuuri’s body still remembered. More than that, _Victor_ remembered, his clever mouth and cleverer fingers knowing exactly how to make Yuuri sing like a canary. It took an embarrassingly short time before Yuuri was spilling himself down Victor’s throat with a hoarse cry.

Yuuri exhaled shakily as Victor withdrew – and whimpered, when he felt something cool and round and hard press against his entrance instead. A bead, Yuuri thought wildly, but it felt larger than that, and – “No,” he whimpered, “it’s too soon…”

Mercilessly, the bead pushed past the ring of muscle. Yuuri jerked his hips in a vain attempt to shy away from the sudden intrusion, but Victor was relentless as he pinned Yuuri down with his free arm. Yuuri thought he counted a second bead, a third, before the fourth bead glanced over his sweet spot, making him moan. A fifth, a sixth, and he was too full now, the beads rubbing constantly against that spot, pleasure sparking through his veins, and surely Victor couldn’t be meaning to add a seventh –

Suddenly, Victor’s lips closed again over Yuuri’s half-erect member, taking Yuuri’s entire length into his mouth all at once. Yuuri gave a choked cry, his back arching against the mattress, and if Victor’s men hadn’t heard Yuuri already, Yuuri was pretty sure that they would have heard him now

Yuuri moaned pathetically as his body trembled and trashed. He could feel himself grow harder in Victor’s mouth. Everything felt too good, too _much_. Every time his hips bucked, the beads jostled against his sweet spot, sending jolts of pleasure shivering down his spine, through his limbs, a bombardment of pure sensation and _want_ that left him gasping. His cock was fully erect now, and he could feel his breath hitch as he began to climb, even though he had just come moments before. He was so close now, his hips stuttering out of rhythm.

And then Victor was pulling away as his hand clamped down around the base of Yuuri’s cock. At the same time, the beads were tugged out of Yuuri with a sharp jerk.

“No!” Yuuri cried.

Hot breath ghosted against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. Yuuri shuddered as Victor began to lap at his entrance, all slow drags and swirls, while Yuuri whimpered. Then, just when Yuuri was least expecting it, Victor shoved his tongue in, hard.

Yuuri wailed.

He beat his fists helplessly against the mattress as Victor’s tongue continued to thrust in and out, a poor substitute for the previous fullness. It was not enough. It was –

“Please,” Yuuri whispered brokenly.

The tongue withdrew.

“No!”

“Beg.” Victor’s voice was velvet.

Yuuri shivered. “Please,” he repeated hoarsely.

“Beg me properly, Yuuri, just like how you used to.” Cruel fingers rolled a bead in tight circles over Yuuri’s twitching rim, the pressure just enough to have Yuuri rock his hips down against it in a silent plea. “Come on. I want to hear you beg.”

The bead slipped, catching on the edge of the trembling muscle, and something in Yuuri broke. “Please,” he heard himself beg. His voice shook. “Victor, _please_.”

Victor pushed the bead into him, and Yuuri turned his head to bury his face against his shoulder as he gave a raw, guttural cry.

Time stretched, lost its meaning, as Victor teased him to the brink before reeling him back, again and again. At some point, Yuuri felt Victor replace the beads with his cock, sliding in deep with a smooth thrust as he whispered against Yuuri’s sweat-damp hair, _These were the pearls you gave me that night, Yuuri. Don’t you remember? You said it was a joke, and I laughed, but I kept them._ Yuuri was only hazily aware of the moment when Victor untied the tear-soaked blindfold and made him watch in the mirrored glass that hung by the foot of the bed as Victor fucked him while he braced himself on his hands and knees, his hips rising wantonly to meet Victor’s every thrust.

“Come,” Victor commanded, and Yuuri’s orgasm rocked through him just as the world slipped out of focus.

+

Someone was carding their fingers through his hair.

Yuuri stirred drowsily as he blinked the world into focus. As his eyelids fluttered open, the fingers in his hair stopped. Yuuri stared muzzily as Victor withdrew his hand and began wiping Yuuri down with a damp cloth, pausing every now and then to dip the cloth into a basin of water by his lap and wring it out before resuming his ministrations.

“When I spoke with Chulanot, he asked me what it was that I truly wanted,” Victor whispered as he dabbed the washcloth gently between Yuuri’s thighs. “I was unable to give him an answer. But, in the end, I think he understood.”

Yuuri hummed. He wondered what excuses Phichit would make on his behalf when the _HMS Eros_ returned to London.  

They lingered in silence for a while: Yuuri as he allowed himself to bask in Victor’s care, while Victor appeared deep in thought.

Suddenly, Victor sighed. “Do you really not remember?”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri replied quietly. He reached out from the covers to soothe an apologetic hand down Victor’s spine.

“That night, after Lord Somerset’s party. I confessed to you, and you asked to be excused. You said you’d be back, but… I thought you had run away,” Victor said, his voice small. He draped the washcloth on the rim of the copper basin with another sigh. “I waited that night, and the next day too, but you never returned. Then, two days later, I received news that you had joined the Navy.”

Yuuri’s cheeks burned, and he shifted his head to hide his face in Victor’s pillow.

“Going to sea seemed like the best way to have you come looking for me.”

Against his better judgment, Yuuri snorted. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered.

Victor poked him in the ribs, hard. “What?”

Swatting at Victor’s hand, Yuuri sat up. “You’re ridiculous,” he repeated, now that his voice wasn’t muffled by the pillowcase. “Who even does that?”

Victor pouted.

Yuuri bit his lip. “I was drunk that night, I think,” he confessed. “And I don’t remember a lot when I’m drunk. But,” he added, a coy smile touching the corners of his lips as he took the basin of water and set it to the floor, where neither of them was likely to knock into it and send it flying, “I think I’ll stay for now, if you’ll still have me.”

Victor’s cheeks flushed.

Still smiling, Yuuri leaned over to press the rest of his promises against Victor’s lips.  

+

Dawn.

This early, most of Victor’s crew was asleep, save for those who were on morning watch. The men bustled about their duties, paying Yuuri no mind as Yuuri strode the length of the gun deck. Now that he had the opportunity for a closer examination, he could see why the _Rusalka_ fared as well as she did in battle. He ran his palm admiringly across a section of the bulwark. Victor kept an impressive ship.

It was his ship too, now.

“I see you’re examining my cannons,” Victor remarked huskily as he slid an arm around Yuuri’s waist from behind.

“And your fortifications,” Yuuri added, leaning back into the warmth of Victor’s body and savouring the feel of Victor’s muscled chest against his back.

Victor leered. “I’d much rather be examining _your_ fortifications.” He nipped a kiss on the shell of Yuuri’s ear, making Yuuri shiver. “Yuuri,” he drawled, “our bed is cold.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes as he turned in Victor’s embrace, throwing his arms over Victor’s shoulders. “Come on, then,” he said, dropping his tone a couple of octaves for the pleasure of watching Victor inhale sharply. He dropped a hand to pinch Victor’s ass, and swallowed Victor’s indignant squawk with a laughing kiss before allowing Victor to lead him below deck.

There would be time later for him to acquaint himself with his new ship. For now, he had a different sort of cannon to test.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: In the Age of Sail, kings would issue letters of marques to privateers, permitting them to attack ships of enemy countries and take these ships as prizes, as a form of maritime warfare. If a privateer was captured, his letter of marque meant that he could not be hanged as a common pirate. Some "pirates" held letters of marque from more than one country. :D;;
> 
> I'm on & [Twitter](https://twitter.com/erushi) and [Tumblr](http://erushi.tumblr.com/). Come say hi!


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